Blood, Family, and the Struggle for Acceptance
by kuroikouma
Summary: Sequel to 'Pizza Deliveries and Racism'. Glenn & Daryl have managed to stay a couple for almost a year- but what will happen when a piece of Daryl's family shows up and reveals his displeasure about their relationship? Daryl/Glenn.
1. Prologue

Hey guys, author here! It's been a looooong time, but I've finally started to work on the sequel to my story _Pizza Deliveries and Racism_. I've got a little prologue for you here- the first official chapter will be posted in a few days. Hope you like it!

Oh, and a little note- In order to fully appreciate this story, I suggest you read my first Daryl/Glenn piece _Pizza Deliveries and Racism_. That's the prequel to this story, and this is a little add on to make things more fun.

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><p>It was impressive how quickly everything could come tumbling down.<p>

It had been eleven months or so since Daryl and Glenn had pushed past their awkward differences and came together into a relationship and, while it was hardly perfect, it was good for them. They had a nice, quiet life between their multiple jobs, and the time they had to spend together was relaxing and calm. They joked and poked fun at each other when out in public, taking care to hide their status as boyfriends (Daryl still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, after all), but when they were alone, their teasing turned more physical and then one thing turned to another and they made love after a long day of working.

But now, the tension in the small apartment felt like an overly tight rubber band, choking the air out of both Glenn and Daryl, their lungs feeling empty and swollen in anxiety.

The man standing just a few feet away, in their small kitchenette, had the presence of a hurricane, but remained deadly silent. His beady, deep-set eyes were locked on his little brother, and the beer can he held, although long forgotten, was on the verge of being crushed by his iron grip.

"Lemme get this straight," Merle drawled, leaning against the counter. As he swirled the little bit of beer around in his can, Glenn forced himself to swallow.

"Yer a fuckin' _fag_, little brother? An' fer a slant-eyed _chink_?"

The words fell like concrete in the small studio apartment, the tension growing tighter by the moment. If it was hard to breathe before, now it was like grasping at air bubbles underwater. Glenn thought he was going to drown.

But let's start from the beginning.


	2. 6:03

Thanks for all the love, guys! Hope this lives up to your expectations~

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><p>It was a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of March when Daryl got the call.<p>

"'Lo?"

"Hey little brother, long time no talk."

Despite the beginnings of spring heat leaking into their apartment, ice trickled down the back of Daryl's neck at that familiar, drunken slur.

"Merle. The fuck _you_ want?" he snipped back, glancing at the clock. Glenn worked until six- the hour hand was just now ticking past four. If anything was up, he had a few hours to get Merle out of whatever trouble he was in before the Asian got home.

"Maybe ta know my brother's alive?" A dry chuckle joined his cynically sarcastic words.

"Ya never fuckin' cared before, dick," Daryl retorted, pulling a beer out of the fridge and cracking it open to calm his nerves.

"Yeah, yeah, stop yer pansy ass whinin' already. I need ya t'do me a favor."

This was what he'd been afraid of. He knew his brother's track record way too well, having had to take care of himself while Merle was in and out of juvie for the most part, and from the moment he heard Merle's voice on the other side of the line, he knew what this call was about. He forced back another mouthful of beer, not registering the taste as he did so. "Yeah? So what?"

"I need ya t'come an' pick me up from this shit hole. Some punk-ass nigger pulled me over on th'way from Joe's an' made me shack up here fer th'night. Bastard's gonna try an' get me put away again- fuckin' nigger..."

Daryl interjected before his brother could start on one of his long racist rants, knowing that the cop he was talking about was probably only a few feet away. "Locked up yer truck, didn't he? Fine, I'll get yer ass outta there."

"Good- ya can show me where th'fuck ya ran yer ass off to."

He could practically hear the grin in his brother's words. Fuck. Again, he glanced at the clock. 4:15. If he was quick, he could pick up Merle, swing by and show him their apartment, and then get him back home before Glenn got back from work.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll be there." Daryl flipped off the phone as he hung up, but nonetheless hustled out the door to go and fetch his brother once more from the overnight cell.

From the moment Merle climbed into the truck to the second they got to Daryl's apartment, he didn't shut up once about how niggers were ruining their law enforcement and how dare that black son-of-a-bitch threaten to lock him up. Daryl remained mostly quiet, only occasionally tossing out an encouragement or a 'mhmm' to keep Merle going. It was better than him being expected to chip in on where the conversation was headed- a point where Daryl didn't really want to go.

It was when they got to the apartment that Daryl really became worried.

A low whistle left Merle as he glanced around the fairly tidy place. "Damn, boy," he began, "Ya've gone downright fuckin' city boy domestic on me, ain't ya?"

Daryl muttered something about him keeping his mouth shut, but his stomach felt like lead. He watched as Merle glanced around the room and then stepped into the little kitchen area, towards their fridge. He took a risk by glancing at the clock- 5:17.

When Merle pulled the fridge open and grabbed a beer, that's when Daryl's stomach dropped to his feet and he knew he was up shit creek, no paddle in sight. His brother wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon- he was getting comfortable. The beer was enough of a guise for that: Merle didn't drink them fast. He savored them, much like he probably savored knowing that Daryl was feeling very awkward at the moment.

"So."

His brother's rough voice tore him out of his distracting, mildly panicking train of thoughts. "Yeah?" he forced out, shoving his hands into his pockets and looping his thumbs through the belt loops.

"Is she a nice piece've ass?"

Daryl's face paled almost immediately. "The fuck're ya talkin' about?" he snarled, his ears going red in embarrassment.

A rough laugh left Merle as he cracked open his beer. "Don' try an' lie t'me, little brother," he began, cocking his head to the side as he took a sip of the cold drink. "The bitch ya left fer. Is she a nice piece've ass?"

For a few moments, Daryl debated blowing off the whole topic of conversation. But it was already 5:30, and he couldn't delay much longer- he had to get Merle out of here before he saw Glenn.

So he played along.

"Yeah, she is. Better than lookin' at yer ugly face everyday."

A wry, dirty grin crossed Merle's lips. "Ain't no use hidin' her from me. Why not introduce her to yer big brother, huh? Let me see if she's good 'nough fer my baby brother."

Another chill went down Daryl's spine. He knew what his brother would want to do with any girl of his. Merle was big on the concept of 'sharing' women, especially with his white supremacist friends, and he was delaying until 'she' got home. There was a glint in Merle's eyes that lead the younger Dixon to know that he wouldn't have a choice in whatever it was his brother wanted to do to meet 'her'. It was nearly 5:50, and it only took Glenn ten minutes to get home on his scooter. _Shit, shit, shit_. He had to get Merle out of here, and hopefully soon.

"Like I'd ever let ya d that," he snipped, watching Merle take another drink. "Dontcha have someone else t'go bother tha's not me?"

Merle faked a pout. "Aw, but I've missed seein' yer pretty face." He sucked on his teeth and fixed Daryl with a hard, critical look. Daryl swallowed as his brother continued. "If I didn' know ya better, I'd say yer hidin' somethin' from me."

As luck would have it, it was right after Merle brought the beer can to his lips again that the door opened and Glenn walked in, completely oblivious.

"Hey man, work let me go early, 'cause of how dead we were- wanna go get some dinner or..."

As Glenn turned to face Daryl after tossing his bag onto the couch, he paused, the color draining from his face. Across from the younger redneck, standing in their little, once cozy kitchenette, was a man he'd hoped never to see again- and he looked livid.

It was 6:03 when their world crashed around them.


	3. Baseball

What was Merle doing in their apartment? Glenn felt panic seeping into every part of him, rooting him to where he stood, forming a triangle between him and the brothers. He risked a glance at Daryl, who was looking at a far wall intently, his jaw clenched tight. Glenn swallowed hard, face pale as he looked back at Merle, who forced out a scoff-like, dry laugh.

"Is this some kinda sick joke, little brother?"

His words cut through the tension in the room like a harpoon, deep set eyes locked on Daryl with a sharp, violent look. "Mind tellin' me why this chink jus' walked in like he owns th'place? Like he lives here or somethin'?"

Glenn watched Daryl glance up towards his brother. It was uncomfortable- made _him_ uncomfortable, seeing how much like a kicked puppy Daryl became around the older male. But then his face changed; it became a little harder, although his blue eyes still held a faint glimmer of worry and fear. Redneck or not, the Asian had to wonder just how bad the younger Dixon's childhood was to have ingrained this much fear in him when it came to his family.

"So what 'f he does live here?" Daryl snapped, tucking his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall.

There was nothing Glenn could say to make this better, he knew that. But this tense silence in the room... it was deafening, and remaining silent was difficult, even when he knew that speaking up could get him, in the least, brutally injured. While Daryl was decently muscular from his construction job and, looking at Merle, some kinda genetic miracle, Merle _was _bulkier and, in all honesty, much more brutal.

Merle cocked his head to the side slightly, as if trying to process what was going on. Glenn hoped that he wouldn't be smart enough to figure out their underlying secret.

"Yer sharing a fuckin' piece've shit apartment with a _chink_?" he drawled, the grip on his beer tightening. "Tha's pretty much markin' yerself a fag, Darylina. Chink better be sleepin' on th'couch- ain't right fer th' white man t'lose th' bed."

The silence that continued in the room was palpable. Glenn expected Daryl to snap at his brother for insinuating that he was gay, but nothing came. Glenn glanced over towards him again and noticed that Daryl's eyes were locked firmly on his brother, an intense look being shared between them. Then, the younger Dixon said something that Glenn had never expected, even in his most inane and random dreams.

"Yer right," Daryl began, "Tha's why we share it."

Merle's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, his face going beat red in anger. Glenn felt ice trickling down his spine, the anticipation of what was coming next nearly making him vomit.

"Lemme get this straight. Yer a fuckin' _fag_, little brother? An' fer a slant-eyed chink?"

Slowly, Daryl uncrossed his arms just as Merle set down the half full beer can he'd nearly forgotten about. Instantly, Daryl's voice rose in reply, his infamous short temper getting the best of him in this situation, as usual.

"So what 'f I am? Ain't no one callin' Glenn a chink 'cept me!" he snapped, his words drawing Merle to step forward, out of the kitchen and towards his little brother in the small hallway between the door and the main, and only, room. The air suddenly felt impossible to breathe- Glenn's eyes widened in a heart wrenching fear. It was as if the two Dixons had forgotten that he was even there. It was suddenly a family matter, the way their voices rose and hands clenched into fists.

"I ain't raise no faggot fer a brother!"

"Yeah, well ya got one, so ya can get th'fuck out've our apartment 'f ya don' like wha' yer brother is!"

Merle threw the first punch. The force with which it collided with Daryl's ribs made Glenn flinch- he could've sworn there was a faint cracking noise. He wanted to yell- to scream- to do _something_ to get them to stop, but he knew it wouldn't work. Still, he tried.

Glenn stepped towards where Daryl and Merle were trading punches, a panicked look on his face and within his voice. "Knock it off, guys! Just fucking stop!"

His words fell on deaf ears as Merle continued to pummel his brother against the wall, fist coming down on flesh and clothed skin more times than he could count. He knew Daryl was trying to fight back, but there was only so much he could do against the large, furious mass of the older Dixon. It was brutal, and if Glenn didn't stop it somehow... well, he wasn't so sure that Daryl would leave the fight in one piece, let alone alive.

But then he had an idea.

Glenn bolted to the side of the room where the bed was, throwing himself on the floor and thrusting an arm into the gap between bed and carpet. He groped around for a minute, praying and hoping to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in that he still had it after so long- aha!

He wrapped his hand around the cool, once forgotten metal of the baseball bat he kept for potential burglaries and stood, holding it shakily with both hands as he looked back over at Daryl and Merle. There was blood on the elder's knuckles, and the sight twisted his stomach into knots. That wasn't Merle's blood. Forcing himself to swallow and try and get a hold of his thoughts, he approached the grappling two in the hallway. It was now or never, and while he felt like he was going to vomit out of sheer pressure, he chose now.

Praying to every god he could think of to not miss his mark, Glenn swung the bat, shuddering as it made a dull thud against its target's back.

Merle gave a shocked yell before dropping the black, blue, and bleeding Daryl, only to slowly turn and look at Glenn. _Shit_ was the only comprehensible thought that passed through his head as Merle lunged towards him, yanking the bat out of his hands like taking candy from a small child and curling a hand into a tight fist, raising it to strike Glenn's face. His other hand gripped the Asian's jersey jacket tight, not letting him pull back. Glenn threw his arms up to protect himself the best he could, but no blow came.

When he heard a grunt and then a scuffle and the grip on his jacket was released, Glenn managed to suck up the courage to slowly lower his arms, risking a look to see what was happening.

Daryl had managed to pull his older brother into a tight headlock. Judging by the way Merle was grasping at his forearm desperately, he guessed it was cutting off air flow. Merle's face was growing redder by the moment, turning borderline purple, but his so-called little brother didn't look like he was letting go anytime soon.

"Don't kill him!" Glenn shouted in a moment of subconscious action.

The younger Dixon didn't show any signs of hearing him aside from a quick glance up, a concentrated look on his face, but when Merle turned into pure dead weight and stopped fighting back, he let go and let him fall to the floor. "Wasn' gonna kill him..." Daryl replied gruffly, the blood dripping down his nose hinting at a clear injury that made it hard for him to speak clearly.

For a few moments, they were both silent. Glenn was still wide eyed, shock coursing through him about what just happened. Daryl was standing just a few feet away with a black eye, a probably broken nose, and a swollen cheek.

"Get th'phone," he forced out, and Glenn shook himself from his shock induced thought process (which mostly consisted of '_fuck shit shit fuck shit what just happened_') to grab the kitchen phone hanging behind him. He glanced down at the phone and then up at Daryl, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Call th'fucking cops!" Daryl yelled, landing a solid kick to Merle's ribs. "I don' care if he's blood, he ain' stayin' here a second longer 'fore I kill him!"

Forcing himself to swallow down the bile that was starting to rise in his throat, Glenn dialed the emergency response number, trying to remain as calm as possible as he relayed what happened. "Yeah, he's my, uh, roommate's brother... He's kinda, no, really drunk and tried to kill him... no, the brother's drunk..." It was difficult trying to figure out what to tell them without giving away too much and making Daryl more uncomfortable than he already was. He'd already come out to his brother- Glenn wasn't sure if he'd wanna come out to the police in the same day.

After an agonizing forty-five minutes of just staring at Merle's unconscious body, the police finally showed up. Daryl was pressing an ice patch to his face, but started to grumble and mutter various profanities under his breath as one of the police officers began to look him over. When Glenn shot him a worried look, however, he stopped grumbling but still didn't hide his displeasure with the treatment.

After getting the entire story from Daryl (who only really started to _give_ the whole story after Glenn sat next to him on the bed), the police handcuffed the barely conscious Merle and escorted him out of the apartment. Officer Grimes (Glenn noticed the name on his uniform) thanked them both for their time and honesty before giving Daryl a serious look.

"We're gonna call you tomorrow, probably," Grimes told him, hooking his thumbs through the belt around his waist, one index finger resting along his gun holster in what Glenn figured to be a reassurance tactic. Or a scare tactic. "The station will wanna know if you're pressin' charges..."

"Ain't gonna press no charges- he's still my brother," Daryl grunted impatiently, shooting Officer Grimes a dirty look.

"I understand that, but you're still more than likely gonna get a call. As for your injuries..." Grimes glanced over to the cop who had looked Daryl over when they showed up. "We'll give you an escort to the hospital. My partner, Officer Walsh there, thinks you might have some broken ribs. It could be worse, but we can't tell here."

Daryl glanced down at his feet, kicking at their dingy pale carpet. "Yeah, yeah... don't need no fuckin' doctor..." Glenn jabbed him in his non-broken ribs. "Fine! Whatever. 'll go."

"You can ride with me. Officer Walsh will be escorting your brother to the jail downtown." Officer Grimes stood and slipped his large sheriff's hat on, heading towards the door. After a few moments of looking at the silent pair on the bed, Walsh followed him.

When the apartment was empty, Glenn opened his mouth to speak, but Daryl beat him to it.

"I'll call ya from the hospital when they're done fuckin' with me," he forced out, standing with barely a flinch, even though there was more purple skin on his face and side than peach. "Don' wait up fer me."

A frown crossed over Glenn's lips when Daryl turned towards the still open door. "Wait."

He stood quickly and joined Daryl a few feet from the door, gently running his hands over the redneck's shoulders. "Are you okay...?" Glenn asked quietly, still frowning as he peered up at his boyfriend, unable to help but worry in the circumstances.

"Yeah, 'm fine, Glenn. See ya."

Daryl kissed Glenn's forehead once before turning to leave, letting Glenn stand there alone for several moments before closing the door.


	4. Pizza

The weeks following Merle's surprise visit were tense and uncomfortable. Daryl indeed had two broken ribs, a broken nose, and a fractured cheek bone which prevented him from going to his second job at the construction site for nearly two weeks. Glenn had every intention to act as if nothing had happened when Daryl was stuck at home when he would normally be working construction, but the redneck appeared to have other plans.

As if to make up for not being able to work construction, Daryl just started staying later at the car shop. For a few days, Glenn had been worried that the redneck was going to a bar after work to drink away the little extra money he could make off his part time job. When he was home, the joking around and subtle tenderness became tense, like he was a rubberband pulled too tight and was ready to snap at any moment. It worried Glenn, but he thought that maybe when Daryl was able to completely go back to work, things would go back to the way they were. They would flirt, and mess around, and things would be better. Maybe Daryl was just feeling off, like a wounded animal, because of his injuries. At least, that's what he was hoping it was.

However, that didn't seem to be the case.

After the doctor deemed Daryl safe to return to his heavy lifting and building, Glenn thought that he'd cut back his hours at the car shop and go back to normal. What actually happened was that Daryl started going to work earlier and coming home later... and their home life didn't improve much, either.

"Hey... everything alright?" Glenn asked, three weeks after the initial incident and a week after Daryl's longer work days started.

"Yeah, why wouldn' it be, chink?" Daryl snapped, putting more emphasis on the derogatory word than usual.

Glenn flinched slightly. "I dunno. You just seem... off, I guess."

"Yeah, well, mind yer own fuckin' business."

He'd bitten back the urge to say that his boyfriend's business _was_ his business. That was the last time Glenn tried to broach the subject. It was as if they'd gone back to the beginning, except that Daryl actually let him curl up with him in their bed, but the redneck no longer try to nuzzle closer or arouse him through his playful touches anymore. It felt like he was just going through the motions, which had Glenn worried that what happened with Merle left more than just a set of physical marks.

A few days later, after Glenn decided to stop trying to bring it up, he decided to swing by the construction site where Daryl worked, a pizza in hand, to try and get him to relax. He'd never actually visited him while at work, but Daryl had mentioned the location once a while ago. At least this way, he figured, the redneck couldn't entirely snub him for showing up- he did bring food.

He pulled up and parked a block away from the site and, juggling the pizza carefully as he got off his scooter, began to approach the area. Glancing around curiously, he ducked underneath the caution tape and looked up, only to spot a familiar flannel shirt, even if it was under a bright yellow construction vest.

"Hey, Daryl!" he yelled out, trying to get Daryl's attention over the noise of sledgehammers and work trucks. He saw the larger male stiffen slightly before turning around, giving the Asian a sharp look.

"I brought pizza- want some?" he asked as Daryl approached.

"Dammit, chink! I'm workin'! Jus' go home."

As Daryl turned to leave, Glenn let his mouth fall open in an automatic, hurt response. "Why do you keep avoiding me?"

When Daryl stopped cold and he felt the eyes of other workers on him, Glenn realized he probably spoke a lot louder than he had intended. Shit. Slowly, the much larger male turned around and walked back over to him, grabbing him roughly by his upper arm and dragging him out of site of the other workers before he finally let go, nearly shoving him away.

"Th'fuck is wrong with ya, chink? Comin' ta my work an' drawin' attention like that?"

Shifting the pizza box, Glenn forced out a dry little chuckle. "I'm sorry- it's just that I kinda panicked. You haven't been yourself, and it's freaking me out, Daryl."

For a few moments, Daryl remained silent, keeping his eyes on Glenn and his jaw tight, as if waiting for Glenn to do something. Finally he spoke, his voice low and rough but still just audible over the rumble of construction equipment. "We'll talk later. I ain't getting' in trouble at work fer ya, chink."

A soft sigh of relief escaped him._ Chink_ hadn't sounded quite so venomous that time. "Alright," he replied with another weak laugh. "I'll see ya then."

Glenn handed over the pizza before following up his laugh with an equally forced smile, turning to head towards his scooter. Even though the redneck had agreed to talk about what was going on, he couldn't quite ease that tight knot in his stomach. It was making him nervous, and he didn't want to wait for Daryl to get off work. It had him antsy already.. but, he supposed, it was better than getting ignored again.

When he got home, he busied himself by organizing the shrinking pile of bills and debt notices on the table before beginning to just fidget and figure out what to do. Sitting at the table didn't seem to be doing anything for his nerves, which were definitely beginning to get the better of him. But he couldn't help it- this was one of the most serious and nerve-wracking moments of his life, aside from being kicked out of his home and buried in debt. Daryl meant more to him than he had ever anticipated, and this slowly growing rift was going to drive him insane if they didn't at least talk about it.

Finally, a little after seven thirty, Glenn heard the door open and swing shut. He lifted his head from where it rested on the table and looked over at Daryl, who gave him a quick glance before walking past him to grab a beer from the fridge. "How was work...?" he tossed out weakly as the redneck popped open his routine evening beer and took a swig.

"It was fine."

_Until I showed up..._ Glenn added mentally with a little frown, suddenly not sure how to approach the subject again. He could feel Daryl's eyes on him, even as he heard the soft splash of liquid as he took another drink.

"Look, I'm sorry for showing up at the site," he began quickly, before he lost his new found nerve. "I just didn't know what to do- you never talk to me anymore!"

Her took Daryl's silence as, not _encouragement_ exactly, but not discouragement either. He opened his mouth to speak again but the other beat him to it.

"God, chink. When'd ya turn into a girl on me?"

A forced laugh was Glenn's first response. "I didn't turn into a girl-"

"Yeah, well yer sure as fuck actin' like one," he interrupted.

"I was worried about you!" Glenn finally snapped, standing up abruptly in order to face Daryl directly, disregarding the table he smacked into in the process. "Why wouldn't I be? Merle shows up, you guys get into a fight, and suddenly you're not talking to me, touching me, or even acting like I'm here anymore! It's like we're back at the beginning or something."

There was a sudden tension in the room that made Glenn's nerve begin to sink into a knot of nervousness again. He was being glared at, even as Daryl took another drink of the beer, and he knew he may have crossed a line in broaching this subject. But goddammit, he was not gonna let this fall apart on him! This relationship... it was more than he'd ever expected, and he would be damned if he let it crumble. Slowly, he stepped towards Daryl, frowning. "I don't wanna know what happened or anything when you were younger, or why you're so distance. I just want it to _stop_- you're making me nervous, and I'm scared for your sake."

"Why th'fuck do you care?" Daryl snipped, setting his beer down and crossing his arms.

Glenn was quiet for a few moments as he closed the distance between him and his lover. Gently, he reached up and brushed his fingers over the edge of a very faint bruise along Daryl's cheek bone, ignoring his slight flinch. "Gee, I dunno," he replied softly, forcing a little half smile. "Maybe because I love you?"

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><p>Hey guys! Just wanted to thank all of you for reading- it's not done yet, but Glenn said the magic words! Let's see how this turns out, shall we? ;)<p> 


	5. Caps and Criminal Records

OHMYGODGUYS. THIS TOOK FOREVER. I'M SO SORRY "orz; Real life decided to rear its ugly head and bite me in the ass. BUT HERE IT IS. THE EXCITING CONCLUSION. :D Hope you guys love it 3

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><p>"The fuck are you talkin' about. Chink?"<p>

Although his response had been delayed, Daryl's eyes were narrowed in a sharp glare as he looked at Glenn. The shorter male took his time in replying, hoping that if he spoke reasonably and slowly, like to a wounded animal, he wouldn't freak out his lover, boyfriend, whatever it was he could call Daryl. He seemed to be opening up at least a little bit, and the last thing Glenn wanted was for him to freak out and shut down again.

Slowly, he slid the small ring off his finger and held it up for Daryl to see. The redneck glanced down at the piece of jewelry and then back up at the Asian, cocking an eyebrow as if to say 'yeah, what about it?'

Groaning slightly in exasperation, Glenn slid the ring back on. "When you gave me this at Christmas, it really had me thinking- no, don't interrupt."

Daryl shot him a dirty look but closed his mouth anyways, holding onto his thoughts.

"I know it's not a promise ring or anything like that," he ignored the bemused snort that statement earned him, "But they definitely mean something, don't they? We don't need to get hitched or anything, but damn, Daryl." A heavy sigh escaped him. "I thought even you could tell that I cared for you."

The redneck remained silent, but he glanced off to the side and his ears turned faintly pink. Glenn looked down at where the small silver ring sat on his finger, biting his lower lip in slight show of his nerves. God, he hoped Daryl didn't think he was trying to jump the gun and take this much too seriously or something. Scaring him off was definitely _not_ his plan for the evening.

"Ya really are turnin' inta a girl on me, ain't ya, Glenn?"

The Asian blinked, caught off guard by being called by his actual name, before looking back up at Daryl. A bewildered expression struck his face. It wasn't often that his roommate referred to him by his name, so it was shocking when he did. After the mild surprise wore off, Glenn scowled slightly and smacked Daryl's arm. "I am not, dick!"

A grin spread across Daryl's lips when he saw the familiar fiery side of Glenn he so enjoyed dragging out. He reached up to push the Asian's baseball cap down over his face, chuckling as his hand was smacked away. Glenn indignantly fixed his cap properly on his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say," Daryl replied with the barest hint of a grin.

"At least you're not ignoring me now..." Glenn muttered, before looking at Daryl curiously. He knew he probably shouldn't ask, and that if he did ask it would be tiptoeing along a dangerous line, but he couldn't help himself. "So, uh. Why were you ignoring me?"

For a few moments, he was worried that Daryl was gonna shut down on him again. There was a cold, empty look in his eyes, but he forced out a choked reply.

"If ya grow up bein' told that bein' a fag meant ya should be killed, then yer brother beats th'shit outta ya fer bein' gay, don' ya think you'd shut up, too?"

Oh. Now that Glenn thought about it, that did make a lot more sense than Daryl just trying to avoid him after the confrontation. "Aha..." He forced out a little sheepish laugh, earning small half smile from the redneck. "Yeah, that makes sense, I guess... what did they do to Merle, anyways?" The last he'd seen of him was getting toted off by the cops- and Daryl hadn't mentioned anything since.

Daryl glanced off to the side before grabbing his almost forgotten beer to take a swig. "He gets arrested fer battery charges a lot, even 'f I didn' press charges. Still had th'cops called on him... he's in jail until next week, then they're gonna review his file again." He shrugged. "That'll take a fuckin' while- bastard's gotta fuckin' long-ass record with th'cops." His explanation was simple, as if it were the most understandable thing in the world. Which, when you grew up with Merle, was understandable.

For once, Glenn thought before speaking and bit back the urge to comment on how he hoped that Merle stayed locked up. Before he came up with something else to say, however, Daryl raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Say, chink. Where th'hell'd ya get that bat from?"

A loud, sudden laugh left the Asian at the sudden change of topic. "That thing is so old," he replied, shaking his head with a playful grin. "My father tried to get me into baseball, 'cause I was so shitty in school, but I stopped going to practices. Loved watching games, but I hated to play," Glenn tossed his shoulders in a half hearted shrug. "I kept the bat for memory's sake- and self defense, 'cause I live in such a wonderful part of town. Looks like it came in handy, too."

Daryl snorted at the last comment, taking a drink of his beer before shoving the cap down on Glenn's head again. "Never woulda guessed ya were a fan," he replied sarcastically.

"Fuck you, too, Daryl," he muttered obstinately, fixing his cap for the upteenth time with a disgruntled expression.

He glanced up at the taller male silently for a few moments before grinning. Thank god- they were bickering again, just like they had before the whole Merle incident. It was one hell of a relief- even if it had to be solved through a rather interesting method.

The rest of that evening seemed to pass pretty quickly... and smoothly, for that matter. They had a small party to celebrate that they had gotten back on talking terms which involved Chinese takeout, and now they were curled up together in bed, clothing dropped off and forgotten somewhere in their impatience. In their now dazed and post-coital bliss, neither had any rush to get redressed. Instead, they remained tangled up in each others' limbs, not entirely sure where one ended and the other began.

Glenn made a soft, satisfied noise against Daryl's chest, drawing an amused chuckle from the redneck. In his sleepy, sex-exhausted mental state, he mumbled a quiet "love you, Daryl" under his breath, but it was what his lover-slash-boyfriend-slash-partner said in reply that was what followed him to sleep with the largest smile he could muster. It was the first time he had ever said it, and it would always be remembered.

"Love ya, too, Glenn."


End file.
